


OTP - Shadows and Snipers

by Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Romance, Rough Kissing, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler/pseuds/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler
Summary: The ins and outs of Zaleila Zhang's relationship with Zenith, with Zhang family cameos littered within. Chapters are mostly non-linear and mostly just bite-sized scenes.





	1. Day One: A Kiss Hello

Senators were astoundingly busy during election years, he'd learned. Zenith had first won the position of Balmorra’s opposition leader while aboard a Jedi ship and his time had been more focused on winning a war than overseeing policy. Back then, he would’ve scoffed at the thought that office work would’ve been exhausting. As he wearily shed his coat in the lounge of his wife’s penthouse, Zenith agreed that his past self was a fool.

 _If I had been more observant back then, Leila wouldn't have had to wait so long for me,_ he thought as he smiled at the dozing blanket-covered lump in the middle of the lounge couch. A pale green sliver of skin and the glint of chromium were visible where the blanket began to succumb to gravity. With a twinge of guilt, Zenith leaned over to plant a kiss to the exposed skin of Zalelia’s forehead.

With a murmur and a groan, the Barsen’thor of the Jedi turned over and opened her blue eyes, which sharpened to an electric focus as she saw her husband. “Hey, you,” she whispered in the scant space between their faces before pressing a chaste greeting to Zenith’s lips.

“Hey yourself,” murmured Zenith. “You didn’t have to wait up for me, Leila.”

She stretched languidly, moving to stand up but pausing and holding her forehead with one hand. Gesturing to the blanket-nest, she remarked, “Clearly, I did not succeed.”

Zenith covered her hand with his own as he frowned and rubbed gentle circles into her skin. “You know sleeping with the headdress on gives you headaches,” he gently chastised.

Zaleila shrugged. “I've done dumber things, Zen. I'll have to take painkillers in the morning, but I got to see you come home, so it's worth it.”


	2. Day Two: Celebrating an Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. Dizana Zhang in zygote form. Happy Valentines Day!

Zaleila didn’t actually notice her first marriage anniversary creeping up on her. As the Barsen’thor, she was practically obligated to give input on every other Council decision, such as where to deploy newly-graduated Jedi, or whether or not to intervene in the feud of Senator What’s-Her-Face and Senator Whatever-His-Name-Is. Such events usually included sitting before a holocom for several hours of her life that she’ll never get back, and then griping about them to Qyzen afterward. Zenith was just about the only member of the crew that kept regular hours nowadays, and if it wasn’t for the fact that she fell into bed with him every night and woke up in his arms every morning, she wouldn’t have noticed the passage of time.

She finally remembered about one week before the day, as she was re-reading some journal entries from the past year. Zaleila hadn’t been a very constant record keeper then, seeing as how the most exciting parts of her life would happen in spontaneous bursts with hardly any time at all in between to take a breather and write. Right after the entry detailing the events of Corellia, the next entry was only a few simple lines that she read while lazing about in bed aboard the _Horizon_.

“Zenith and I got married today. One of the navy captains from the blockade officiated, I don’t remember which one. Zenith asked me in the middle of the battle, which I’m not surprised by, but he had a silver ring in his pocket, which did surprise me. I love that man. There won’t be any pictures, but I’ll remember the look on Zenith’s face forever.”

In her recollection, Zaleila remembered mostly a feeling of lightheadedness, and she unconsciously began to sway where she sat. With knowing feeling of dread, she bolted from the bed and lunged for the adjoining bathroom. Leila managed to stick her head in the fresher in time for the first heave and cradled her stomach gently.

On the day of, Zenith held her in his arms and pressed a kiss to every one of her freckles while she blustered and told him to get to work. Once the door slid closed behind him, Zaleila ran to the coat closet and began to remove box after box, carrying them to what she and Zenith had initially called a “guest room”. Those plans had to change now, but Zaleila had always excelled at impromptu planning.

When Zenith walked into the apartment that evening, silence reigned. The stillness and the peculiar absence of Zaleila was usually indicative of some kind of game, and Zenith grinned as he glanced around, looking for the tell-tale signs of a Jedi rendered invisible by the Force. He crept from the lounge to the kitchen to their bedroom, but found no sign of his wife. A frown tugged at his smile, and he abandoned all pretense of stealth as he walked deeper into the apartment. A muffled voice caught his ears, and immediately Zenith dashed towards the guest room only to stop short in his tracks at the sight before him.

Heedless to her husband’s appearance, Zaleila sat cross-legged on the floor, swearing at and struggling with various plasteel rods that claimed to transform into a playpen. A rocking cradle had already been constructed and was pushed off toward one of the walls, and a waist-high wooden dresser sat against the wall opposite. A lone container of interior paint sat beside Zaleila, advertising a warm shade of violet. A plush toy shaped like a miniature varactyl was propped against the paint can, and that seemed to be the final straw.

“Zaleila. What…?”

Her head jerked up, but the bright smile plastered on her face didn’t disguise the brittle worry and anxiety in her blue eyes.

“Oh, you weren’t supposed to see this yet…” blustered Zaleila as she let the plasteel rods slip from her grasp.

Zenith sank to his knees to sit in front of her, and caught her anxiously twitching hands in his own, which had begun to lightly tremble.

“Leila, are you…? We have a baby?” Zenith whispered, half-awed and half-terrified.

“Well what we have right now is a zygote, but later, we… yeah, we’ll have a baby, or at least I will, even if you… don’t want to.” Leila looked her husband in the eyes, and smiled weakly. “Happy anniversary?”

She could feel the wet tears on Zenith’s face as he kissed her, and Zaleila realized that she shouldn’t have worried.


	3. Day Three: A Homemade Gift

Zenith chewed on his lower lip anxiously as his narrowed eyes and dexterous fingers focused with laser-intensity on evenly spreading the thick blue icing on the miniature pastry in his hand. Flecks of blue scattered across his chest and face created freckles to mirror his wife’s and testified to the effort put in to making icing that was “just right” to quote little Zana.

Their little girl, tuckered out from all of the excitement of baking cupcakes with Dad, lay on the couch with her soft varactyl plush cradled on her chest. On the couch, Dizana would be the first thing Zaleila would see coming in through the door, and hopefully be a loud enough distraction that Zenith could put the finishing touches on their little surprise if his wife came home earlier than expected.

As he finished, Zenith placed the spreading knife carefully on the counter and nudged the final cupcake into place on the tray with its brethren. A wide circle of blue cupcakes surrounded the rim of the tray, and inside the circle the word “MOM” was formed by cupcakes spread with green icing and covered liberally with chocolate sprinkles. Dizana insisted that they represented her mom’s freckles, and Zenith only thanked his lucky stars that she hadn’t picked up Zaleila’s habit of teasing him about his chocolate fanaticism.

Just as Zenith finished sticking a candle in every cupcake that made the “O” in “MOM”, he hear the pneumatic hiss of the penthouse speeder garage, and sighed with relief. He smiled at the sound of their delighted daughter running to her mother, and when he looked up to meet Zaleila’s eyes, they shone as brightly as the tiny flickers of flame.


	4. Day Four: Reunited

Across the galaxy, it was widely known and understood that the Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order was a woman of her word. Nothing stood in  her way for very long, and as it turned out, the reconstruction of Balmorra was not the exception to that rule.

Zaleila had sworn to him, when she was weary but fierce, bruised and bloodied and shining with hope, “You will see Balmorra free from under the feet of its oppressors, Zenith. You will live to help rebuild.”

Zenith’s cynicism had brushed the words off as empty promises and false hopes. There was too much death, too many broken things--himself included--that needed fixing. When he grew frustrated with the Senate, Zenith reminded himself of this. If there was work to be done, he’d do it, whenever and whatever it was, without a care for himself.

After Zenith came plodding up the stairs after midnight for the eighth consecutive day, Leila put her foot down.

“You aren’t helping anyone like this, you foolish man,” she told him, and immediately began to build an itinerary for a family vacation. Dizana cheered, and Zenith only had the energy to roll his eyes fondly and begin a token resistance over what to pack for the trip. He only began to suspect that something was afoot with their plans when Zaleila wouldn’t tell him their destination.

“It’s a surprise for you, Zen. No point in giving it away before we’ve even left,” she would say with a self-satisfied smile.

For a week before departure, they turned it into a little sort-of game:

“It’s not Nar Shaddaa, right?”

“Of course not! Like I’d hand Zana over to Cedrax for a full day on that planet.”

“I hoped you wouldn’t. Is it Sarkhai?”

“Good guess, but Nadia isn’t coming with us, so no. And before you ask, Qyzen is doing a thing with some nomadic Trandoshan clans, so he isn’t coming either.”

Leila even goes through the trouble of blindfolding Zenith, although by the time they step off of the shuttle he’d got an inkling of where they are. It’s in the details he never thought he’d notice, like the way the dry grass crunches underfoot and the faint-but-still-discernible notes of smoke in the air. Even without those clues, there are only so many planets within the Core that Leila would choose for a vacation.

“Uncle Tai!” Dizana exclaimed, and Zenith immediately relaxed. With the question of who was watching their little girl while he and Leila took some time off being answered, a weight already lifted off of his shoulders.

“Can I take the blindfold off now?” Zenith asked, and if he sounded a little petulant, well. He had a feeling that he knew what Leila wanted him to see now.

With a soft laugh, Zaleila reached behind Zenith and tugged the knotted fabric loose and tied her scarf around her neck once more. He didn’t recognize the airfield, but he knew it was because there hadn’t been any commercial airfields on Balmorra in the recent past.

Tai, looking somehow both older and more happy than the last time Zenith had seen him, looked up from Dizana to smile at Leila and Zenith. To his continuing puzzlement, Leila spoke to Tai first.

“Is everything ready?” she asked cryptically, and Tai only nodded in reply.

Leila took Zenith’s hand, and lead him out of the airfield and toward one of the speeder rental stands and quickly acquired a two-seated speeder bike.

“How long did it take to set all this up?” Zenith drawled as he slid onto the speeder behind his wife. The light of a successful plan was shining in her eyes, and for a moment he thought of how rarely he had seen Leila so delighted.

“Not so long,” she deflected, and before she revved the speeder she turned her head to press a kiss to the nearest patch of his skin that she could reach.

Zaleila parked the speeder at the top of a nearby hill that overlooked the city connected to the airfield, and she sat down cross-legged on the hill. To indulge her, Zenith sat down behind her and wrapped his arms around her and perched his head on her shoulder. The city below them was bathed in setting sunlight, and a few after-dark streetlights had begun to flicker to life. If he looked closely enough, Zenith could see a few spots where the streets sat unevenly, and with a start he realized exactly where this city was.

“Do you see it?” Leila murmured. “We met not too far from here. This used to be a pitted battlefield, and some of the craters had to be paved over. Balmorra is healing, Zenith.”

Watching the sun set on his planet, watching new life thrive where there had only been scars before, eased a knot of tension that Zenith hadn’t even known that he’d been carrying.


	5. Day Five: Making Out

Zenith can’t feel the tips of his fingers. Zaleila stands in the holocom chamber, the biggest room on the  _ Horizon _ , stiffly poised in that way that makes her look angry when she’s really just tired. She’d mud-splattered and bruised, and if Zenith looked he’d see that Lieutenent Iresso doesn’t look much better but he’s finding that he doesn’t much care about Iresso. Leila took Iresso for the Belsavis operation, just like she took everyone at least once to measure their field capability, but somehow it stings that she hadn’t picked Zenith. 

He can see her trying to be strong for Nadia, to project a reassuring air for the girl, but Leila keeps shifting her weight from foot to foot and her left lekku keeps fucking  _ twitching _ . Her uneasiness isn’t quite so pronounced after she dismisses Iresso and Zenith feels at both proud that he was right and like an ass because he so desperately wanted Leila to dislike Iresso. 

The flight to where the kidnappers took Senator Grell is so short, too short, and Zenith squeezes his fingers into fists as he waits outside Leila’s quarters as she cleans up from Belsavis. He’s almost talked himself into leaving, leaving this whole ordeal alone and leaving the ship if Tai lets him, when Leila opens the door wearing a towel and a scowl. 

A bead of water is trickling down her shoulder over a muddy-colored bruise, and instinctively he brushes the drop away with his fingers.The action is enough to shock Leila into backing away so that Zenith can enter the room and the door can shut behind him. Her skin is hot under his hand, and there’s a burning, clenching feeling in Zenith’s chest that pushes him to cup her face in and urge to get close to her. 

Zaleila surprises him by surging forward first, pressing him against the door and curling her hands around his cheek and shoulder to kiss him at deeply as she can without suffocating either of them. He can feel warm dampness spread on his clothes where she presses up against him. For a moment he thinks about stepping away, but instead he moves his hands from her face to hold her hips and clutch her to him. 

She tilts her head far away enough to breathe again and whispers against his skin, “Not that I’m not delighted here, Zenith, but what brought this on?”

He’s already recaptured her lips before he can think of a reply, but his hand moves to trace the bruise on her shoulder again. It’s only when he feels lightheaded that he mutters into her lips, “It’s clumsier with him, isn’t it? You don’t think the same, so it’s harder to predict where he’ll be and it’s harder for him to protect you when you leave yourself open.”

Zenith hasn’t dared look in her eyes yet, so it isn’t until he can feel the shape of her lips on his skin that he knows that she’s smiling. Leila cups his face with her hands, bringing their gazes together so he can see the way her eyes shine in the dimmed lights of her quarters. 

“You think you can do better?” She almost taunts him, but she’s digging her fingers into his shoulders now to keep him from potentially leaving, so he knows it’s not an insult.

“I know I can, Jedi,” he declares, and he’s kissing her again, down her jawline to nip at the tendons of her neck. She exhales a breathy laugh, and gets in a few sharp kisses before gently pushing him away. 

“Then you’d better suit up so you can help me and Nadia, big shot,” Zaleila says with a grin, and it’s all Zenith can do to keep from blushing when  he hears her drop her towel when he only has one foot out of the door. 


	6. Day Six: Cooking Together

For all that Zaleila was raised on a city moon, she never returned to pre-packaged rations after experimenting with campfire cooking. Qyzen was surprisingly good at it, and Tharan, born and bred for the urban environment, had been completely useless. Hoth had been no place for a campfire, so it wasn’t until Voss that Leila encouraged Zenith to work with her over the fire.

As Leila began culinary surgery on their rations, she saw Zenith in the corner of her vision, carefully examining everything she’d laid out from her extra seasonings bag. He tentatively picked up two, then three shakers of spices, before looking up at her. Leila wanted to think that there’s a tiny smile hiding in the corner of his lips and imagined what it would take to coax it out. That line of thought almost obscured the words he’s speaking and she hastily tuned back in.

“I… have an idea. Can you make a casserole out of those?” Zenith asked. 

She had to glance down at her hands to confirm it, and Leila almost sent a fervent prayer into the Force that the campfire disguised her embarrassed flush. “What do you have in mind?” 

A mischievous smile was Zenith’s only answer, and Leila chuckled as she reached for the square pan among her supplies. As Zenith prepared whatever his surprise was, he talked, for a longer time and with more energy than she’d ever seen from him before. He was incredibly conscious of what he did with his hands as his talked, taking care not to gesture with the spices. 

“One time, my cell found this Mandalorian behind our lines. He wasn’t even doing anything, just walking across the field as best he could with a hole in his side. We brought him back to camp, planning on interrogating him later, but when we fed him he said that he’d tell us anything we wanted to know if he could make us a meal that wasn’t more bland than water,” Zenith recounted with a ever-widening smile. 

“I volunteered to be the one with my blaster trained on him in case he did anything suspicious, but then all his did was describe exactly what he was doing as he did it.”

The picture of a fully armored Mandalorian leaning over a campfire while a younger, maybe scrawnier Zenith pointed a blaster at him made Leila laugh a little. She remembered what the view was like when one of those T visors tilted downward to offer a scrap of food to a little Nar Shaddaa street rat, and so the familiar elements of Zenith’s story were a comfort. Suddenly, another memory of a Mandalorian hit her, and Leila narrowed her eyes at Zenith playfully. 

“Are you making me tiingilar, Zenith?” asked Zaleila with a teasingly accusatory tone. 

“I can’t actually remember what he called it,” he replied with a shrug too nonchalant to be sincere. Zenith kept his game face on for a while, but as Leila began to shake with laughter, a rare bright grin came across his face.

 


	7. Day Seven: One Laying in the Other’s Lap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> way off schedule i know, the rest of these are going to come in short bursts rather than an actual daily update.

Leila woke to the sound of steps across the floor. Her hand twitched, brushing against something warm and soft. She frowned, and moved her opposite hand. The sensation of fabric under her palm was unsettling, and she instantly recognized the stiff blankets of the ship’s infirmary. Her body was too warm under the blanket, and a weight had settled across her thighs.

Blinking her eyes open hesitantly, Leila stiffened as she saw a familiar pair of lekku draped across her knees. Thankfully, Zenith’s head faced away from Zaleila, and so a few moments she simply stared at him in disbelief. Her sniper hadn’t even changed out of his field gear, and the heavy leather had transferred some of the planet’s grime onto the blanket. At a second glance, she realized that Zenith had removed his gloves, and that her left hand, rather than resting on the blanket, was enveloped in both his hands.

The heat began to prickle uncomfortably, and Leila attempted to shift her weight. Zenith’s hands tightened around her own where they lay on the bed, and the sniper slowly raised his head to look at her. Amethyst eyes were hazy but quickly sharpened into razor-sharp points of intensity as Leila held his gaze. She squeezed Zenith’s hand in a gesture of reassurance, smiling weakly.

Zenith moved his chair closer to the head of the bed, and cupped Leila’s face before gently wrapping his arms around her torso. Happy with change in position, Leila leaned her head on the sniper’s shoulder and rested her arms around his trim waist. Zenith’s grip as tight, but not suffocating, and she felt a happy shiver run down her spine as his breath ghosted across her neck, right above where her pulse pounded through her veins.

“You’re too reckless, Leila.”

“But you love me for it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”


End file.
